Enter the Mayor
by nyctanthousDacnomaniac
Summary: And so it begins. A Humanstuck AU mostly following an amnesiac WV as he faces the consequences of his previous actions without actually knowing what said actions were, and maybe make some new friends along the way, because there are not enough Mayor fics these days. Rated T because it's Homestuck, there's going to be swearing in here.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys. I was looking through the fanfics when I realized there were basically no Exile-centric stories, nevertheless any Mayor-centric stories. So I made this awkward Humanstuck AU where there will be the featuring of Mayor, PM, Jack, and Midnight Crew stuff, with some guest appearances by the other Exiles, and also starring all the trolls and all the humans. So, I hope you like it. I promise all my awkward AU shenanigans will make more sense later on. Probably.**

**I don't own Homestuck. If I did, Vriska would have died way sooner, and #SPOILER ALERT#****Dave would still be alive#END OF SPOILER#**

**Also, just as a warning, this story is unbeta-ed, and was written in about a two hour span between midnight and two in the morning. I'm mildly doubting my ability to string words together at this point.**

**-ND**

* * *

><p><strong><span>?- Introduce yourself.<span>**

Your name is The Reader.

What? Were you expecting anything different? Did you think I would introduce the character as if you were said character, and thereby introducing yourself? How, daresay, could I do that, since the character to be introduced doesn't even know who they are? Did you even think about that possibility? And why am I asking you all the questions?

Because I'm the Narrator, and I can, that's why.

Why did I introduce you in the first place, I bet you're probably asking. Or maybe not, I'm not psychic, gosh, stop judging me. But if you did ask that question, then congradumatations, you uncovered my plot to attempt to establish the fact this story will be mostly in third person in the longest, most roundabout and convoluted way I could manage in order to make myself feel better about the word count.

So, I guess now that we got that over with, we might as well go on with the story, hmm?

Or maybe I could draw out this charade for a little bit longer. I enjoy the spotlight, sue me. Wait, no, scratch that, don't sue me, I'm completely broke.

Oi, you don't have to be mean about it! Fine, I'll start the story, you spoiled brats.

**And suddenly, a wild Story appears.**

It's dark out. Everyone knows that everything significant happens at night. It's just a fact of life, so deal with it.

Our protagonist is currently lying on the ground in the middle of some sort of room he doesn't recognize. Wait, is he the protagonist? He can't remember. He doesn't feel protagonist-material, but he doesn't feel very antagonistic, either. Until he can find himself some better title, he'll be the Greytagonist.

So, the Greytagonist sat up, for that seemed like the most logical choice of action at the moment. He looked down at himself, and noted that he was wearing a bulky tan sweatshirt and a pair of tattered jeans. He also was holding onto a faded and tattered blanket for some reason. He felt like he shouldn't loose it, so the Greytagonist draped it on his shoulders and folded it so it was like some kind of weird poncho. It made him feel silly, but not silly enough to actually take it off.

The Greytagonist took a quick inventory check; mostly nothing, but in one pocket he found a sort of simple ring. He didn't know if it was important or not, so he decided to treat it like it was important. Better safe than sorry. In another pocket, he found a mailbox-swingy-arm-thing that was sharpened and wrapped in some sort of fabric as a grip. Now this was important. The Greytagonist wasn't positive why it was important, but he knew that he should keep it no matter what.

After his short and mildly pointless rummaging through his pockets, the Greytagonist decided to investigate the room he was in. The first thing he noticed was the door. He attempted to open it. He failed. The door was, apparently, locked.

The Greytagonist moved on to another, smaller door. A cabinet, probably. He walked over to the and opened it with a mildly unnecessary flourish.

He was immediately bombarded with cans. Lots of them. It seemed as if they were packed in there so tightly, that the lack of support on one side caused them all to tumble out onto the Greytagonist.

The Greytagonist preceded to flip the fuck out.

This was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Ever. Probably, he couldn't remember that much.

He picked one up and attempted to open it, because he was completely starving. He, unfortunately, could not, due to his lack of a can opener and the fact that his stupid dull teeth were stupid. The Greytagonist had the idea to use his trusty knife, but alas, it was still too dull to cut through metal.

So, since he could not get to the delicious insides, he used the cans to make a sort of imaginary town of cans. It would be great to have a town hall, but he didn't have anything for a roof.

The Greytagonist went back to the cabinet to see if he had missed anything. He had. In the back corner, there was a box of chalk and a key. He took them both.

The Greytagonist pocketed the key for later use, and decided to examine the chalk. There were twelve pieces of chalk in all the colors of the rainbow. Without a second thought on the matter, the Greytagonist ate the two green ones. Green was a very tasty color, he decided. He glanced over at the can buildings he had made, and saw something that gave him an idea.

In the corner of the room, there was a potted plant (or just pot, really, because he almost immediately ate the plant), a pile of old wires, a rotten pumpkin (Nope, never mind, he ate that too) and a book. Before enacting his plan, the Greytagonist lingered on the book. It was about manners or something, and about half the pages were missing. Oddly, he still could swear he knew what the missing pages had once said. Anyways, onto the Greytagonist's plan.

First, the Greytagonist used the half-eaten book as a roof for the Town hall, and put his trusty knife into the dirt of the pot and made that the effigy of freedom and democracy or something of the sort. He scribbled on the floor and walls to properly establish the roads, buildings, and the territory of Cantown. He then, for the piece de resistance, took the wires and draped it over his shoulder, making it into a leaderly sash, and took one of the cans, peeled off the label, and put it on the shash. Using the red chalk, he added an "R" to the end of the word.

The Greytagonist was no longer the Greytagonist.

The Greytagonist was now the Mayor of Cantown.

Hell.

Fucking.

Yes.

**Mayor- What's that key for?**

He was _just _getting to that. If the Mayor could hear you, he'd probably be annoyed that you're rushing him. But he can't, so lucky you.

Anyways, the Mayor walked over to the door he tried to open earlier and tried to open it with the key. It didn't work; it was apparently for some other door. The Mayor looked around the room again and found that there was a staircase he hadn't noticed before for some reason. Why didn't he notice it before, it was literally right in front of his face! He climbed up the steps (not before hitting himself in the head a few times for being an idiot), and reached another door.

It was locked, so he tried opening it with the key.

It worked.

The Mayor entered a new room, this one having only an open door leading to a bathroom, an oddly-placed fridge, and another closed door, probably locked.

The Mayor made the split-second decision to open the door to the fridge, and instantly was glad he did.

The fridge, oddly still working, was filled with cans of Tab.

The Mayor then began to completely flip his shit so far it probably would be found somewhere around Saturn.

He sort of blacked out for an unknown time, as he commenced downing the contents of at least ten cans, and then did a bunch of random shit like doing some weird initiation-thing for the new members of Cantown, and then used white chalk and this bottle of black goop he found in the bathroom for some reason (He also found some sort of green rock in there, but he ate it) to make this awkward chess board and played against himself without actually being aware what chess was.

After his sugar rush faded, the Mayor conducted a funeral for some of the cans he accidentally killed during his sugar-fueled mania before returning to the fridge to see if he missed anything. He, of course, did. There was a key in the fridge. The Mayor didn't bother questioning it, because who knows, maybe it was normal to find keys in the fridge. He wouldn't know, the Mayor had amnesia, probably.

Almost certain that he knew what the key was for, he used it on the closed door on the second floor. To his surprise, it was already unlocked.

The Mayor was even more surprised when he walked in and found that the room was almost completely empty except for a meterstick and a cage in the middle of the room.

And inside the cage was a cat. At first glance, the cat was completely unremarkable, but when examined more closely, the black kitty's tail had a bright yellow tip that looked almost like it was glowing. The Mayor noticed that almost immediately, and it somehow reminded him of both democracy and fireflies. Huh.

The Mayor kneeled down to examine the sleeping kitten and noticed that the cage had a padlock with a keyhole on it. He immediately used the key to open the cage, and when he pulled the door open, the kitten woke up at the sound. She stared at him for a few seconds with its (much to the Mayor's delight) bright green eyes before walking out of the cage. The cat almost immediately began rubbing against the Mayor and started to purr.

Before acknowledging the cat, he retrieved the key that the cat was sleeping on, because apparently any container with a door in this place had a key in it.

After the Mayor placed the key in his pocket, he picked up the little kitten, which immediately squirmed out of his grip, clambered up his sleeve, and rested on his shoulder, satisfied.

The Mayor brought the cat downstairs and placed it with the cans before returning to the second floor to investigate the meterstick. He messed around with the stick for a bit before coming up with an ingenious plan. The Mayor went back downstairs, took his trusty knife out of the pot, undid the grip, and used the fabric to turn his trusty knife into a handy spear. Spears are way better than knives.

The Mayor the decided to check on his new furry friend. Surprisingly, the cat had not disturbed any of the cantown buildings or residents while the Mayor was gone. Instead, she had padded over to the Town Hall, slipped into the small building that was almost the perfect size for the little guy, curled up, and just laid there, examining Cantown as if it were hers, and flicking her yellow-tipped tail in what the Mayor assumed was either pride or amusement.

He supposed he could share the role of Mayor with her.

But he couldn't just call her Mayor, because that was his name. After thinking for a while, a name just came to him: Serenity. It just sort of... Fit.

The Mayor spent who-knows-how-long just watching Serenity before he remembered the third key. He was pretty sure he knew what it was for.

He was right, for when he turned the key in the first door he had tried, there was a soft click informing the Mayor of his success.

He swung open the door and was met by a bright light.

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><p><strong>So, guys, hope you liked the first chapter! It was a bit slow, I guess, because I'm not really used to writing for WV. I promise more stuff will happen, and the plot will deviate from the comic. Next chapter might be up in a few days.<strong>

**-ND**


	2. Chapter 2

**Mayor- Leave the building, post-haste!**

Uh, he's not outside yet. That door just led to a different room, this one slightly better lit than the other ones. Didn't I mention that it was dark out? Yeah, pretty sure that was the first thing I said in this story. Did you even pay attention? Unless you knew that he was still inside, then, good for you, I guess?

But anyways, the Mayor walked into the new room. This room was mildly unremarkable, to the Mayor's standards. And that's really something, due to the Mayor's current standard of "remarkable" being that the room contains more than one item of furniture. Seriously, this guy thought that a cabinet of cans and a box of chalk was the best thing in the world (until he found a fridge of Tab, of course), and he found the room to be boring.

Or at least, he thought so at first. The room consisted of no furniture, but there was an open walkway on the wall to the Mayor's right that filled him with a feeling of both familiarity and dread.

He shuffled for the new room and peaked around the corner, both curious and wary of what he might find. What he did see in the corner lulled him into a sense of safety, as if he had seen that room countless times and knew every inch of the walls, so he strode into the area to investigate further.

On the ground, a pile of blankets made a makeshift bed that, to the Mayor at least, looked very comfortable. Next to it was what looked like the pumpkin he ate before, but this one was made out of plastic, had no top, and had a thin plastic handle. It was also filled with some stuff that the Mayor instinctively knew was his, even though he couldn't remember where he got it from or why he had it. He really didn't remember anything before waking up in the first room.

The Mayor sat down and rummaged through the pumpkin-bucket thing. The first thing he pulled out was a small rectangular thing with a black screen. Oddly, he knew how to work the rectangle, but couldn't for the life of him remember what it was called. He set it aside for later and pulled out the only other thing.

The Mayor was met with a brightly-colored bundle of fabric that sent a slight chill down his spine. Or at least, that's how it started out as. The chill kept magnifying in discomfort until he was sent into a panic. The Mayor had to get as far away from those clothes as possible, and as soon as possible.

He solved that problem by stuffing the bright clothes into Serenity's former cage and relocking it using the key. And then the Mayor are the key for good measure. It wasn't as tasty as the green chalk, but it wasn't exactly bad tasting.

Now relieved of the horror, the Mayor shuffled back down to the Room.

Feeling as if he did this only recently, which he most likely did due to his loss of memory, the Mayor sat cross-legged on the floor and picked up the rectangle-thing, turned it on, and went to the place labeled "contacts." It was almost completely empty other than one number, labeled as "ectoBiologist" This struck the Mayor as odd, for, truthfully, he was expecting something else. He couldn't be sure, however, so he sent this "ectoBiologist" a message.

**?: **BOY.

**?: **YOU THERE, BOY.

**?: **WHO ARE YOU?

**?: **WHY ARE YOU ON MY CONTACTS?

**EB: **hahaha, let me guess.

**EB: **another troll.

**EB: **what, did cg send you?

**EB: **you certainly sound like him :B

**?: **WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE?

**EB: **cg! he types in grey and yells a lot.

**EB: **like you!

**?: **I DON'T LIKE THIS GREY TEXT PERSON.

**?: **I AM NOT YELLING, THE CAPS LOCK IS STUCK.

**EB: **suuuuure it is :B

**EB: **so, how come you aren't showing up with a chumhandle?

**EB: **are you not on pesterchum?

**?: **ON WHAT?

**EB: **omg, how can you not know about pesterchum?

**EB: **it's a chat client that can replace texting.

**EB: **people without it can still pester people, but only if they have their number.

**EB: **wait, how did you get my number?

**?: **I DON'T KNOW, BOY.

**?: **I OPENED MY CONTACTS ON MY RECTANGLE AND YOU WERE THERE.

**EB: **rectangle?

**EB: **yeah, you're a troll.

**EB: **i bet you just banged a bunch of numbers and texted whatever you typed :B

**EB: **i'm going to sleep, talk to me tomorrow.

**EB: **or not.

**EB: **preferably not.

**?: **WAIT, BOY!

**?: **COME BACK HERE, BOY!

**?: **I INSIST YOU RESPOND TO MY INQUIRIES, POST-HASTE!

**?: **BOY!

The Mayor went on like that for a few more minutes before he gave up on the blue-text person. Really, some people can be so rude.

...Like himself, actually.

The Mayor banged his fists to his head several times due to the frustration of his own sheer stupidity. He had digested (literally) the knowledge of half of a manners book, he should have known better than have been so rude to the ectoBiologist! He hadn't even properly introduced himself!

After that fit of mild rage, the Mayor stood up with a new goal in mind. He would go out and find this blue-text boy, and apologize in person! No matter what it took!

That was really saying something, considering he didn't know anything about them other than that their "chumhandle" was ectoBiologist, they typed in blue, and knew someone named CG.

But first, he had to get out of the building. And before exiting the building, the Mayor had to gather supplies.

The Mayor grabbed the pumpkin-bucket and went pack to the first room. He attempted to stuff the cans into it, but quickly found that hardly any would fit in the fairly small container. He screwed around for awhile with the other stuff he happened to have with him until he managed to have a system where he could carry almost everything he needed. This system was basically using the fabric from the makeshift bed and his handy rulerknife to make one of those sacks on a stick that a hobo uses and putting a bunch of cans in that. In the bucket, the Mayor had put the manners book, the rectangular thing, and some more cans. The chalk and the keys were small enough to fit in his pockets.

A few cans had to stay, however, and the mere thought of leaving some of Cantown behind made the Mayor shed a few tears. He promised himself that he would one day come back to retrieve those left behind, once he found a more stable place to establish Cantown.

Serenity had woken up during these shenanigans, so the Mayor picked the small kitten up and allowed her to perch on one shoulder, kind of like a pirate has a parrot. But instead of a pirate having a parrot on his shoulder, the Mayor was a mayor with a cat on his shoulder.

But then there was the problem of not having a way out.

He hadn't seen a door in the room before the Main Room, but it wouldn't hurt to check again.

Huh. It turns out he had been so distracted by the Main Room, the Mayor hadn't noticed that the Empty Room had a door, with some hooks next to it.

When the Mayor approached said door, he saw that one of the hooks had a ring with a key hanging from it. He took the key ring, and in a fit of inspiration strung the rest of the keys onto the ring as not to loose any. Well, he strung all of then except for the one he had are, because, well, he had eaten it.

The Mayor tried to turn the knob on the door, and, unsurprisingly, it was locked. So he used the new key to unlock it.

He placed the keyring back in his pocket and opened the door.

The Mayor finally walked out into fresher air.

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><p><strong>Gah, shorter, low-quality one this time. Sorry. Just as a warning, my updates will be really sporadic depending on my business and amount of inspiration. I might put out five great chapters in two days, or one horrid one in a month. My motivation to do things comes and goes in waves, and sometimes I sort of loose interest in writing anything for a few days, or maybe I just hit a really rough spot. But anyways, I hope you're enjoying the story so far.<strong>

**-ND**

**-PS: Thank you guesswhatimahomestuck for following and reviewing!**

**-PSS: I think my toe is broken x.x**


	3. Chapter 3

**I took way longer than expected writing this chapter. First it started with a fiasco involving a frayed charging cord, so I had no proper way to actually type out anything decent. And then came what I'll call The Realization. I was just sitting, minding my own business, and then my brain was all like, "yo, nd, whatcha even gonna be doin with dat fic a yours?" and I was like "no idea, brain." And then my brain was all like, "well i seeya got da mayor all up in dat business, and a bunch of other peeps, but ya forgot about lil hal and davesprite." and so I was like "OH WOW HOW COULD I FORGET TWO OUT OF MY THREE FAV CHARACTERS." and then I had to come up with a way to put them in. AR was easy to plan for, but Orange Creamsicle was REALLY hard. But then my mind came up with an EXTREMELY BRILLIANT PLAN that may or may not include random science bullshit and a doggie-jade. I originally had no long-term plan for this story, but now I have it planned UP TO THE VERY LAST PAGE. Weeeeell, maybe not THAT much, but it's way more planned out than anything I've ever written, ever.**

**I hope you're happy. I'm not sure if I am or not.**

**-ND**

**PS- Wow I can't believe I actually made that author's note. I typed it out at about 5 in the morning after pulling a near all nighter. I would edit it, but am much too lazy. Or maybe just because I feel like you guys should be aware of my mild insanity as early on as possible.**

**PPS- Just as a heads up (I really should have put this in the first chapter, but whatever) there will probably be little to no romance in this story. Sorry if that disappoints anyone, but I feel like I really am not suitable to write about anything even slightly romantic due to me being an aromantic and having no idea how to relationship x.x. There will, however, be a bunch of angst (probably, or maybe it'll end up being a bunch of fake angst to serve as a pseudo-plot) and bromance fluff because Dave and the Mayor are just adorbs ^.^**

**PPPS- There is a LOT of swearing in this chapter. Just a warning. And there's a fairly sizeable one sided rap battle.**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Mayor- Go... Oh wait...<span>**

What was that? You wanted to make the Mayor go do something, eh? Well, too bad for you, because you can't. At the moment, the Mayor is unconscious. Why, do you ask? I'm not going to tell you, that would be spoilers! No one likes spoilers. Unless you do. But if you want any spoilers for this, then too bad. No hints from the omniscient being just yet.

**Narritive- Switch to the other guy.**

The narrative is now following the actions of said other guy who will be important to the story. Not the blue-text human, you twat, the red one that we haven't met yet.

This unmet human's name is Dave Strider, as I'm supposing you guessed it would be.

At the moment, this Dave Strider can't stop thinking about how much the situation was _fucking over his head he was literally drowning in situation and gog what the fuck was he supposed to do here oh god oh fuck._

Dave had just found a very familiar-looking fellow (familiar to us, not him) passed out next to the club from which he had just left work and the guy had a cat on his head and _by God that's a lot of blood._

The guy (or kid would be a better term, he looked hardly even legal) had a _hole in his fucking stomach and he was bleeding all over. _Well, it was more of a really deep gash, but _still. _Dave quickly checked the pulse and the breath of the kid, really relieved when he found that the little dude was still alive. Wow, they must have a lot of blood.

Of course, the sensible thing would be to call for an ambulance, but Dave was a paranoid little bastard who hated hospitals, and plus the kid looked homeless, he had one of those hobo-thingies and a fucking trick-or-treat bucket with _cans in it for fuck's sake._ Dave doubted the kid had enough money for medical bills, and he sure as hell knew that he and his Bro didn't either, it's not like DJing brought in tons of money or anything, and and even though Bro's thing brought in quite a bit of money, Bro refused to lend any money unless either Dirk or Dave beats him in a strife, which had only happened once before. And his and Dirk's apartment was literally two buildings down (and, well, up a fuckload of stairs, but the elevator worked, so...) and Dirk was pretty good at patching up wounds, anyways.

We, you as readers and I as the storyteller, are very lucky that Dave Strider did not do the reasonable thing. If he did, that would be the end of that, and there would be no story for me to tell.

But instead of calling for an ambulence, Dave decided to bring the kid back to his apartment.

But first, he needed to stop the bleeding.

Dave was usually much better at this type of thing with a katana, but since carrying shity swords around was apparently "not good," all Dave had on him was a knife he kept hidden in his sock. Good enough.

The cat apparently hadn't gotten the "_dude im trying to help your human here chill" _memo, because almost instantly after Dave took the small weapon out, the kitty shot onto all fours, still on the guy's face, and hissed at Dave. The thing's fur was standing on end and _hopy shit the things tail glows._

And that wasn't an exaggeration, either. It wasn't like street lights getting reflected off some shinny-ass patch of fur, the yellow tip of the cat's tail _was a light source in itself._

_"_Woah, freaky firefly-kitty," Dave said in an attempt to keep his cool despite the fact he was under a metric buttload of pressure mixed with a hearty helping of mindfuckery, "calm your tits. Your bed is bleeding out, and I just gotta get some fabric."

Surprisingly, the devil-cat seemed to calm down after that, allowing Dave to make a sort of makeshift wrapping out of a sweatshirt sleeve. He almost was going to use the blanket-poncho thing, but figured it had some sentimental value or something. The shirt would have to do.

Dave bent down and pulled the kid upright, propping him up against the building behind him. As he did so, the cat, for some reason, climbed onto his shoulder.

Before actually picking the guy up and carrying him back to the apartment, Dave took out his phone and called someone who he really didn't want to call at that moment but he really had to if he wanted to give the little guy any sort of a chance.

The phone rang for a while before his intended callee, who was probably sleeping when he called, the lazy fuck, actually answered the phone.

"Sup, Dirk. I'm in a bit of a pickle."

-o-o-o-

In an amount of time that Dave really didn't think was nearly quick enough, he managed to carry the kid bridal-style to his apartment, the cat still on his shoulders, where Dirk was waiting with the first aid kit. Dave laid the kid's limp body on the futon, and his brother almost immediately went to work.

Dave really would have preferred to not get his twin bro involved in the fiasco, but fuck, the guy really needed stitches, and Dirk was like a God with the needle and thread, both on skin and plush (which Dave really didn't want to think about at the moment)

Dirk, as expected, was mother-hening over the kid, being as careful as, well, a mother hen. That guy was such a softie.

"Dave. What happened."

And just like that, the moment was gone. Dirk had apparently sewn the kid up in hardly any time at all and had placed an actual bandage on the wound. Now that it was stitched up, it was kinda apparent that he had overreacted _just _a bit. He hadn't been bleeding too bad, as the makeshift wrappings had hardly even been soaked by the blood yet.

"No idea."

"Who _is _this guy?"

"No idea."

"_And why is there a cat on your shoulder?"_

"Because the thing's either a demon or our new guest's guardian angel-cat. Or maybe both. Or neither. Shit, Dirk, it freaked out when I approached the guy, so I told it that I was just trying to help and then the cat just fucking climbed onto my shoulder."

Dirk let out a snort and muttered, "Of course _that's _the one you answer."

"Damn straight."

"Right. So, how about we quit worrying about whether or not that cat is a spawn of Satan and start worrying about the fact that there is a homeless kid unconscious on our futon instead of in a fucking hospital."

Dave shrugged, only to be meowed at by the cat for unsettling its perch, and replied, "Kid looked homeless, and I'm pretty sure that homeless dudes don't have swimming pools filled with cash for medical bills. It would probably be more like a Faygo bottle filled with pennies. And unless you've been keeping all the hard dough to yourself, or if you can somehow pull off the miracle of the century, a miracle so fucking gigantic that Jesus himself would come back to life just to give you a brofist, and beat Bro in a fight, we can't really afford all that fancy medical crap to save some guy we don't even knew when you are perfectly fine at medical work and can do it for free because you're a sucker for this kind of thing."

Dirk gave him a Strider Look. To anyone but another Strider, that look would be hardly any different than his normal expression, but Dave knew it was Dirk's "That's not all, isn't it" look. Dave shot his best "Yeah of course there is and we both know you know and it doesn't matter right now so just drop the fucking subject before I decapitate every headed object you have" look right back at him.

The subject was dropped.

Instead, Dirk pointed at the stick on Dave's back and asked, "What, did you bring the guy's stuff here, too?"

Dave nodded sharply and laid the hobo-stick thing and the pumpkin bucket on the ground.

"Let's see what this guy has on him."

* * *

><p>TG: yo<p>

TG: eb are you there

TG: who the hell are you even

TG: are you another hobo

TG: god please don't be another hobo

TG: wait but is the guy actually a hobo even

TG: why would a hobo have a phone eb

TG: eb answer me

TG: i dont know who this guy is

TG: who is he

TG: goddammit i should have the right to know at least the name of the dude whos unconscious on my futon

TG: oh

TG: wait

TG: dude's got a sash

TG: nope

TG: dudes not a hobo

TG: hes a mayor

TG: thats fucking amazing

TG: eb why didn't you tell me you were friends with the mayor

TG: common eb

TG: don't make me start rapping at you

TG: because that's never something you should make me do

TG: see this im spewing all these sick fires

TG: enough to turn your brain into a sacrificial pyre

TG: all those eldrich gods aint got shit on me

TG: got them all bowin down onto one knee

TG: wont even try to stand up cuz they all know

TG: my sicknasty beats are bounds n leaps over their broodfester throes

TT: Dave, stop rapping at EB.

TT: It's starting to get pathetic.

TG: dude i thought we both agreed that i would interrogate eb first

TG: it was going to be a super ironic good cop bad cop thing but with more sunglasses and rap battles

TT: Just think of it as me rescuing you from sinking into the pit of sincerity, because I think we both know that you didn't make up the plan "just for the ironies"

TG: woah woah woah

TG: back it up there

TG: beep beep beep

TG: just for your fyi

TG: it was all for the ironies

TG: its always for the ironies

TT: You assigned us code names.

TG: so what

TG: they were ironic code names

TT: ...

TT: Sometimes I wonder how it could be possible that we are the same exact age.

TG: uh dur we arent the same age dude

TG: im like a full minute older than you

TG: howd you even get into here anyways

TG: this is a private chat

TG: emphasis on private

TT: First of all, that's a lie, you have no idea which of us came out first.

TT: Secondly, If I can create an independent computer program based off my own brain I think I can hack into a simple chat client.

TT: It wasn't even that hard to do, really.

TG: you asshole

TG: you have intruded upon the sacred grounds that is the

TG: private

TG: chat

TG: and you will die by burning at the stake due to the disturbance of sacred ground

TG: that is how people who desecrate stuff are killed right

EB: ...

EB: wow

* * *

><p><strong>PPPPS- So, quick explanation: Dave doesn't know any of the trolls or other kids yet, Dirk and Dave are twins and split the rent on an apartment in Houston because Bro thinks that they should learn to fend for themselves instead of relying on him for everything even though he's pretty rich, and Dave doesn't like hospitals for a reason to be revealed later.<strong>

**PPPPPS- I can't write for Dirk, apparently, and am hardly any better at Dave. It'll probably improve over time. Maybe.**

**PPPPPPS- Yup, my toe's broken x.x**


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